Written in the Stars
by Compulsive Bowler
Summary: Quick one-shot. Enjolras is not completely heartless, he longs for a partner, but that's clearly not his fate. Not slash. Rating for mentions of prostitution.


A/N: Please don't kill me for minor detail mistakes, I haven't read the book in 2 years and other than that my only source is obviously the musical. Pre Les Mis, not slash, and I know Javert is a bit OOC, but come on, no one is made entirely of stone. Please R&R anyway!

Enjolras could never find love. Of course, he loved Patria, but he was unlucky romantically. He lived a passionate life for study and for the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom, but that does not mean he had no heart. Enjolras always wanted to fall in love, just like he read in his books.

One night at the café after most of the boys had gone home or to seek pleasure from a harlot on the streets, Enjolras stayed behind, rereading Shakespeare's classic, _Romeo and Juliet_. It always intrigued him how strong the couple's love was if it was powerful enough to stop a feud. Dazed, he glanced up from the script and stared off into space, wondering if he couldn't find a way to fall in love and somehow end tyranny of France. A democracy would not create itself, he knew that, but at that particular moment he just wanted love. He wanted not to wake up alone for once in his life.

Deciding he needed some fresh air because his present thoughts were so ridiculous, Enjolras arose from the table, carefully gathered his belongings, and strode out of Café Musain. The night was clear and the stars glistened in the sky, illuminated by a near full moon. He slogged along the pavement with minimal interest, only staring longingly into the sky. After a few blocks, he decided to sit on the bank of the Seine where the water blew a cool, refreshing mist in the late night and early morning. He loosened his cravat, unbuttoned his vest and sank into the soft earth beneath him.

Just as he became relaxed, a figured appeared in the distance, masked by an obscene amount of mist. The figure slowly drew closer and Enjolras could see the outline of a gun on its side. By the time he could recognize the man, it was too late to run.

"Inspector Javert!" he exclaimed standing up, at attention, "I did not peg you as the man to take a midnight stroll by the river."

"I could easily say the same for you," Javert replied somberly. Needless to say, they had their disagreements, whether it was about politics or even their respective opinions of the weather.

"Look," Enjolras began, ever the pragmatist, "I don't want to argue," he caught his wording and realized the ludicrousness of the statement prior, "at least not tonight."

"For once, I couldn't agree with you more," Javert sat down on the ground next to where Enjolras stood and looked up, his face practically pleading for company. Enjolras sunk to his level and they both gazed adoringly at the sky. "The stars are out tonight. So majestic and just, why can't we be like the stars?" Javert questioned rhetorically.

"The stars have our fates planned out. Those in adoration are clearly destined for greatness," Enjolras joked, knowing the both of them enjoyed the glowing nova above.

"Perhaps our destinies are written in them. Maybe our fate was never ours to chose," Javert replied, attempting to keep pace with the young rebel beside him.

"Which of course is the definition of both destiny and fate," Enjolras smirked haughtily seeing as Javert had painted himself into and intellectual corner.

"Point taken," Javert said coldly. He relaxed after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "So Monsieur Enjolras, what brings you to the river bank on this fine night?"

"I needed to escape my books for a bit. And you?"

"I needed to escape my duties for a bit." Javert replied, taunting Enjolras simultaneously. After a few more moments of a more awkward silence, Enjolras shifted so that he was facing the inspector.

"We are not so different inspector. Shamelessly dedicated to our work, despite the fact that our works contradict each other. But if you don't mind my asking, is there a Madame Javert?" Javert shot him an icy look that would have turned the bravest man, such as Enjolras, into stone. "I meant no offense," Enjolras said in an attempt to mollify the inspector's death stare.

"No, no there is not. With my work, I cannot bring another into my life." Javert responded, somewhat placated by Enjolras's sincerity.

"Is it because your work takes up too much time?"

"No woman is interested in the stodgy inspector who spends his life searching for criminals," Javert explained frigidly. "And you, which dainty young woman has her eye on yourself?"

"None. No woman is interesting in the eloquent leader of the rebellion who spends his life searching through books," he joked with his parallel to Javert's life. "As a matter of fact, that is why I came out to the Seine tonight. I cannot help but wonder if this is my destiny: to be the bachelor who cares for his cohorts, but fails to find the maiden who will share it with him."

"I suppose we are not so different after all. I came pondering a similar question," Javert explained, still admiring the stars.

"So, dear inspector, on this lovely evening what struck this concern?"

"I was trolling through town, searching for a missing convict, when I wandered past a few ladies of the night. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have a woman-" 

"Javert, surely you kid, you cannot mean that you are-"

"No I am not a virgin. I meant in the sense of companionship," he stated, somewhat annoyed by Enjolras's misconception.

"My apologies. I understand completely though. Maintaining a true sense of loyalty to a cause does take a remarkable toll on one's personal life."

"Perhaps the stars declare that we shall be single for the remainder of our days, but only because we," Javert smiled and gestured between the two of them, "are powerful enough to change the world."

"Yes, I would like to think so, Inspector Javert," Enjolras smiled sadly and looked at Javert. And for the first time in ages, neither man felt entirely alone. They had found companionship in the most unlikely of places: in each other's similar misery.


End file.
